MAY IN MOSCOW
Commonwealth and Foreign [To the Editor of THE SPECTATOR.]
Stn,—May in Moscow is traditionally the busiest and liveliest month in the Soviet calendar. It is also one of the pleasantest, containing the whole of the short Russian spring and unspoiled by any foretaste of the sweltering, sultry heat which makes Moscow unbearable in the later summer.
It begins, of course, with May Day, the festival of Inter- national Labour. For many years past, the international aspect of May Day has receded into the background of the Moscow celebrations ; and the occasion has been used to glorify the political achievements and the military prowess of the Soviet Union. This year was no exception. The parade on the Red Square was one of the most formidable and best-staged military exhibitions to be seen in contemporary Europe ; and there was an evident desire to impress the foreign spectator with the number and the prowess of Soviet tanks and aeroplanes and the discipline and smartness of Soviet troops. Unfortunately for the first time for several years, no British Members of Par- liament graced the official tribunes, the Coronation having proved an irresistible counter-attraction. The English guest of honour seemed to be Mr. Victor Gollancz, the founder of the Left Book Club, whose movements and meetings with Soviet men of letters were regularly chronicled in the Moscow Daily News.
The relative importance now attached here to the national and international aspects of May Day could be clearly seen from the Press of May 1st. Both the Government organ, the Izvestiya, and the party organ, the Pravda, carried on the front page in large type a Prikaz, or Order, from Voroshilov the Commissar for Defence, addressed to the " warriors, commanders, political workers, engineers and technicians of the Red Army."
We are less touchy than we used to be about anything which recalls the ancien regime ; and though we still have neither " soldiers " nor " policemen," but only " red-army-men " and " militia-men," the good old Tsarist Prikaz is now once more in fashion. The second page of the Pravda carried— for old time's sake, so to speak—an article by Dimitrov, the Secretary-General of Comintern, on the international solidarity of labour. But Capitalism no longer occupies a conspicuous place among the enemies of labour. Its place in the Soviet Press and in Soviet oratory has been entirely usurped by " Fascism " or, better still, by " Fascism-Trotskyism." Dimitrov's May-Day shafts were aimed almost exclusively at the " Fascist rulers of Germany and Italy and the Fascist military clique of Japan." Except for an occasional bare record of fact, the London 'bus strike has scarcely been mentioned in any Soviet newspaper. The utmost care has been taken to avoid any suggestion that the workers of the Soviet Union are supporting the British worker in his struggle with the capitalist exploiter. We have travelled far since 1926.
A Spanish delegation was prominently featured at the May Day parade, and a good deal of Spanish news appears in most of the papers. The Barcelona riots of May 4th and 5th provided an excellent text for denunciations of Trotskyism, which is now alternately identified with anarchism and with Fascism. This aspect of the matter attracts more attention here than the fortunes of the civil war itself. For the public at large, the principal interest of the Spanish war lies in its effect on the price of oranges. Large consignments of oranges have been taken in payment for tanks and shells. At 25 roubles to the pound (you can get anything from eighty to a hundred in Warsaw, but smuggling is hazardous), an orange a few weeks ago cost four shillings. Now you can get one for eighteenpence or less.
At this price there seem to be quite a lot of buyers. Money wages have been going up here steadily for the past two or three years. Prices of articles of food, other than bread and salt fish, and of all articles of clothing, are fantastically high. But consumption seems to be limited by shortage of stock§ rather than by deficiency of purchasing power. It has hap- pened to many foreigners in Moscow or Leningrad to be accosted in the street and offered high prices for the clothes they are wearing ; for the quality of Russian clothing, and in particular of boots and shoes, is indescribably poor. But it is only recently that discreet murmurings have been heard about the rise in the cost of living. In June, according to an official decree, all prices are to be cut from ten to fifteen per cent. ; and everyone is waiting to see exactly what this will amount to. The foreigner living in Moscow has no means of knowing what is going on in the country. But in spite of shortcomings which are only too obvious, there is no doubt that the standard of living and prosperity of the mass of the Moscow population has advanced during the past couple of years, and is still advancing at an appreciable rate.
There is an equally marked improvement in the external aspect of the city. The main streets are well paved, the means of public transport are not (except at the rush hours) indecently crowded, and the traffic is orderly and well disciplined. A few weeks ago unmistakeable Belisha beacons, the globes appro- priately coloured red instead of orange, and illuminated at night, appeared on one leading thoroughfare. On the outskirts of Moscow we have had for some little time the familiar " 3o' discs—kilometers not miles, but the number is sacred. These are quite properly and consistently ignored. But in spite of this, Mr. Hore-Belisha may congratulate himself on having done his bit to make Moscow traffic-conscious ; and there is far less reckless and inconsiderate driving than one used to complain of a year or two back.
Yet notwithstanding this material progress, a deep under- current of anxiety can be discerned among all those who are interested in anything more than existing from one day to the next. Aloud, people ask whether this summer will be as bad as the last, when the thermometer in Moscow passed 105 degrees Fahrenheit, and the crops throughout Central Russia were scorched with drought. Secretly, people wonder when the next big political trial is coming, and who will be arrested next. The latest cause dare is that of Marshal Tukashevsky, until recently Voroshilov's right-hand man at the Commissariat of Defence. Tukashevsky was mentioned by Radek in his evidence at the January trial, whether because Radek took a malicious delight in implicating a personal enemy in his own downfall, or because he had received a hint that this would be agreeable to higher authority. The point was not taken up by the Court. Tukashevsky remained to all appearance in favour, and was appointed one of the Soviet Delegates to the Coronation. On the eve, however, of the departure of the Delegation, it was learnt that Tukachevsky would be prevented from accom- panying it by a severe chill. He was seen at a public function next day without, as a spectator observed, any symptoms of a cold except in the feet. A few days later, it was announced that he had been appointed to the Volga Command. Everyone remembered that the fall of Rykov and of Yagoda in turn had been heralded by their appointment to the Commissariat of Posts. The Volga Command—a position hitherto occupied by a general of inferior standing—looks like the military equivalent of the Commissariat of Posts.
The silent reign of terror which set in after Kirov's murder at the end of 1934 shows no sign of abating. The net sweeps wide. Three months ago the Vice-Commissar of Justice was suddenly relieved of his post. Three weeks ago, the Izvestiya carried a long article denouncing him as a saboteur and a Trotsky- ist—the customary formula for proclaiming to the world the arrest of an important heretic. A well-known dentist with a private .practice in Moscow was recently " called away " to an unknown destination. A Catholic priest, a Soviet citizen of Polish origin, celebrated a Mass on May 3rd in honour of Polish Independence Day, and was arrested by the police -a few hours later. Rumour, which is the daily bread of foreigners in Moscow, gives figures of those deported to Siberia or the Arctic in the last two years, and of those still in prison awaiting their fate. Such figures have only the value of more or less intelligent guesses. But there is a general impression that these years have been comparable with some of the worst years of political repression in pre-revolutionary Russia.—I am, Sir,
YOUR MOSCOW CORRESPONDENT'.
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